| You look a younger more beautiful version of death
|
| But I’m scared to hold you close or smell your breath
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| Now your body’s facing east your heart is west
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| And you can call me leisure and I can call you rest
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| We can’t stop thinking that we should’ve guessed
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| We should’ve held you closer to our chest
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| 'Cos our shoulders were put there for that test
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| Now you can call me leisure and I can call you rest
|
| Well you certainly jumped the red at treasure chest
|
| Your joyride didn’t feel bad enough to confess
|
| Till you placed the lemming on this family crest
|
| And you can call me leisure, the donor of poor measure
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| The scalpel of all pleasure, I’ll call you rest
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| It’s what we thought God gave us shoulders for
|
| Not to shrug in self pity or to ignore
|
| Instead the helpless ration chances to the poor
|
| We pick your weightless body up from the floor
|
| We pick your weightless body up from the floor
|
| All the minutes, and the hours that you caressed
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| Have been taken to a place that you thought best
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| If it’s heaven or it’s hell you’re still well blessed
|
| And I shall get my own back when I can call you rest
|
| Well you certainly jumped the red at treasure chest
|
| Your joyride didn’t feel bad enough to confess
|
| Till you placed the lemming on this family crest
|
| And you can call me leisure, the donor of poor measure
|
| The scalpel of all pleasure, I’ll call you rest
|
| It’s what we thought God gave us shoulders for
|
| Not to shrug in self pity or to ignore
|
| Instead the helpless ration chances to the poor
|
| We pick your weightless body up from the floor
|
| We pick your weightless body up from the floor
|
| Up from the floor, up from the floor, up from the floor |